Reunion
by Helen Pattskyn
Summary: AU *Eight months ago Sara found herself in Cardiff on a whim. Now Grissom is in London for a conference and the Torchwood team have conspired... COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Reunion**

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**A/N:**

I'm writing this a little differently, so if it looks like you've missed a story, you haven't. There are only so many "how they met Torchwood" stories one can write (or read) before it gets old… but be assured, the back story will come out as. Sara Sidle didn't just drop into the Hub one day… not that stranger things haven't happened! ;-) (Can we all say "Face of Boe"?)

**Thanks to Sidlerocks for giving this a once through and giving some wonderful advice  
(not an actual beta read, so PLEASE assume all spelling errors and typos are mine.)**

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**Timeline: ****Spring 2009**

**Torchwood:** this is post everything else (set in this century, of course.)

**CSI:** looking at the current season (9), and presuming that Sara left (for the second time) sometime in the autumn when the season started, this is set in Spring of 2009. Reading the proverbial fine print, yes, Sara would be in Cardiff during the Fish Men Christmas story, but she isn't actually a part of Torchwood yet… (Fish Men, for lack of a better title, is part of More Short Stories and should really have had it's own story, but I never expected it to be more than a chapter or two…)

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**Chapter One**

* * *

_"Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives.  
The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend - or a meaningful day."_

**Dali Lama**

**.**

Sara Sidle took a deep breath and wiped her damp palms against the smooth fabric of her skirt. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a skirt for anything other than a hot date. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a date hot enough to warrant a skirt. She smiled to herself; her co-workers were becoming a bad influence. Or possibly a good one.

As well as an updated wardrobe (which generally didn't include skirts) she was sporting a new haircut. It wasn't terribly different from the old one, just enough so that she felt she looked different.

Or maybe Jack was right, maybe it wasn't what was different on the outside, it was what was different on the inside that she saw when she looked in the mirror. Sara knew she was a very different person from the one she'd been when she found herself in Cardiff eight months ago, on what was probably the stupidest whim she'd ever indulged in… Stupidity. Serendipity. Fate. Whatever it was, she was glad she'd gotten on the plane, and not just because her co-workers had nudged her into buying a new outfit.

The skirt was silk, floral, perfect for London in Spring. It matched the light silk blouse she wore, something that looked like it might have come out of the seventies, but really she'd just bought it (although she would think twice before letting Wendy, Gwen _and_ Abby take her shopping. Still, it could be worse, she'd heard about what shopping with Jack could be like. Her heart went out to Ianto at times.)

With one last deep breath, she shouldered her overnight bag and stepped into the spacious, well appointed lobby of the Marriot hotel, Canary Warf. Even though she hadn't been anywhere near London when Daleks and Cybermen descended on Canary Warf, she'd read the file. Her chest seize up thinking about what Torchwood One had done here.

At the time, on the other side of the planet, she had been as intrigued by the 'ghosts' as anyone else – and as ignorant to the possibility of aliens coming to earth. Of other dimensions, parallel worlds. It was with good reason that Jack considered Canary Warf the ultimate cautionary tale.

A large marquee in the hotel lobby welcomed the attendees of the International Forensic Technicians Conference. She smiled as she read the small print: _with keynote speaker, Dr. Gilbert Grissom. _

Sara took a moment to reflect on the way seeing his name made her feel… giddy. Nervous. Uncertain.

He was, of course, the reason she was here.

As soon as Abby brought up the conference Ianto decided that at least one of Torchwood's resident techs should go, and since Abby was busy planning a wedding, it seemed only natural that it should be Sara, even though Abby did a good ninety percent of the forensics work the team needed done.

She smiled again. Her friends had gone through considerable lengths to pretend they didn't know she would have asked for a weekend all on her own. _If_ she could have gotten up the nerve, that is. She wasn't sure she would have.

It wouldn't have been the asking Jack part that would have made her hesitate, it would have been the fear that he would say yes and she'd actually have to come… as it was, Ianto simply arranged for her accommodations and handed her a train ticket. She was sure it was the first time she hadn't heard him complaining about budget. Not that he denied any of them anything. She'd seen Abby make enormous requests for equipment and typically in very short order whatever she needed arrived with what seemed to be only obligatory moaning on Ianto's part. (He probably grumbled at everyone's requests so he could keep Jack in line… those two made her smile. Of all the couples she knew, they were truly the closest thing she'd ever seen to 'soul mates'.)

Moving with a confidence she knew hadn't had when she left Las Vegas, Sara strode towards the front desk. She was wearing a brand new pair of flat-soled summer sandals. Her job didn't allow her to wear 'girly shoes' or dress up much, even on her own time. She'd been called away from dinner more than once to chase down a Weevil or some other alien… how Abby pulled off it off in those platform boots she wore all the time was a mystery.

Before making the trip from Cardiff to London, Sara had splurged on a couple of new outfits and a ridiculously expensive handbag… after all, one only lived once and the average lifespan of a Torchwood employee, while improving, didn't give her the impression she'd have to worry about a pension plan.

But that was ok. She'd faced death once already and she wasn't afraid of it any more. In a strange way, it had been liberating to come so close… to think she was going to die. To become determined that she _wasn't _going to die.

To know that she _could have_ died.

To face the possibility of dying on the job at least once a week since joining Torchwood Three.

It made her feel free to live her life as if each day truly mattered. She supposed it did. There really might not be a tomorrow. And that was ok, because even if there wasn't a tomorrow for her, there would be tomorrow for someone else. Bobby was right, there was something electrifying about being a part of something so much bigger than herself, than her problems. Than her past.

"Here for the conference?" the older lady behind the reception desk inquired politely as Sara approached.

She smiled, "Sara Sidle. Torchwood." No matter how hard Jack tried to keep them from doing it, the entire team made dinner reservations, ordered pizza and checked into hotels under the name Torchwood. Of course Jack _had_ mentioned that Torchwood London wasn't exactly a good example of a 'secret' organization… Ianto confirmed his assessment.

"Sara?" said a familiar voice at her elbow.

She turned and grinned at Greg Sanders.

"Wow. You look good." He blushed. "I mean… you know… wow."

She laughed, though not unkindly. She doubted he'd ever seen her in a skirt. "Thank you, Greg. You look good too. Almost all grown up," she teased him. He was wearing a jacket and tie with his jeans and almost wrinkle-free dress shirt.

"Yeah, well, Gris said I should try to look professional," he shrugged.

Her smile deepened as she wondered what Gil would make of Abby.

"Miss Sidle?" The desk clerk drew her attention back to the matter of checking in. "Your key… do you need help with your luggage?"

She shook her head, "I've just got the one bag, thanks."

"Enjoy your stay, Ma'am."

Sara took the key from her and steered Greg away from the desk so others could get in to register.

"You're staying here…?" he gawped.

"Yes, I'm staying here," she just smiled.

"Wow. I mean… you know Grissom's here, right?"

"Key note speaker. And probably giving some lecture on bugs," she retorted in a dry tone, feeling the smile grow broader on her face.

Greg managed a laugh, "Yeah. That too. Does he know you're here?"

"I didn't know I was coming myself until last week…"

"How'd you get a room? We just barely got in, and I registered three months ago!"

She shrugged. "My boss probably knows somebody who knows somebody." Or Ianto had hacked the computer… she actually preferred the option that started with Jack saying something like 'my ex boyfriend…' although the name 'Torchwood' did carry some weight and not just in Cardiff.

"Where are you working?" Greg wanted to know.

"Cardiff. Wales," she added to the slightly confused look he'd given her.

"You're over here? In England?"

Sara decided not to argue that Wales was its own country; it was part of the UK and if she didn't live there herself, she would probably call it England, too.

"How long have you been over here?" Greg was asking.

"About eight months."

"What are you doing…? I mean… we all thought you left because… you know… you got burned out or something."

"I was burned out," she confirmed earnestly, grateful that Gil had kept the explanation for her initial, sudden, departure simple, truthful, but without going into details. Even when she'd come back for Warrick's funeral, she had been loathe to give out too many personal details. Too many things had been too hard to admit, too many things had felt askew even if she didn't fully realize it at the time. "I'm not a forensic technician any more," she said, no longer sweating the little details of her life. "I just help out a little when our resident tech gets swamped."

"So what _are_ you doing?" he repeated.

_I catch aliens for a living… _"Field work, mostly." She might not be sweating the little details, but the big ones… that was another story. _Don't sweat the petty stuff and don't pet the sweaty stuff…unless of course you're Jack… _Ianto's sage advice from when she first started telling him the 'Sara story'.

Greg gave her a slightly perplexed work but didn't press the issue of what she meant by field work. "Grissom is going to totally flip out when he finds out you're here, you know that, right?"

Sara just smiled; Gris wouldn't be the only one flipping out. She had pterodactyls flapping around in her stomach…

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**A/N:**

I AM still working on the Dafydd story… I'm having a bit of writers' block (as if y'all couldn't tell). The sad part is I KNOW what happens next and exactly how it ends… but when I sit to type, I just end up staring at a blank page (anyone else see Johnny Depp in Secret Window?)

I'm hoping that by working on other things I'll be able to get the Muses to dance on over to that story and inspire me ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I am always amazed by them… (and since I don't anticipating updating it soon, allow me a moment to say thank you to those who read and enjoyed the last instalments in **More Short Stories**, since I've noticed a lot of the same names here. You guys always make me feel SO good when I get into my email. Thank you.)

..

Nick wasn't originally going to be in this… but I really do take reader requests ;-) He won't play a major role (but Greg wasn't ever going to play a bigger part than the one he's already played either. I thought it would be more fun to have someone other than Grissom find Sara in the lobby.)

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**Chapter Two: Serendipity **

"_Risk-taking, trust, and serendipity are key ingredients of joy. Without risk, nothing new ever happens. Without trust, fear creeps in. Without serendipity, there are no surprises."_

Rita Goldman Gelman

**

* * *

**

Sara took another deep breath; Greg had walked with her to her room so she could put her bag down and now she was standing with him outside the room he, Nick and Grissom were sharing.

Just as Greg was about to slide the key through the lock, the door opened.

Gil Grissom stopped mid stride when he saw who was standing behind the young man. He blinked, twice, not entirely certain what he was seeing was real.

It looked like Sara… and yet there were subtle, almost unperceivable differences. It wasn't her hair, although her hair was different. It wasn't that she was perfume, although she didn't usually wear perfume. It wasn't the skirt, even though he could count on only a few fingers the number of times he'd seen her in a skirt.

There was something in her smile… it reminded him of all those years ago, when they'd first met. _Fresh,_ he thought. New. Untainted by all the atrocities she'd seen on the job… _like she's found herself…_

"Hey, Gil," Sara finally broke the silence.

"Hi. You look good," he managed. He'd never been especially adept with small talk or simple pleasantries. "Are you here for the conference?"

"My boss seemed to think it was good idea for me to come."

He seemed surprised. "You're still in forensics?"

"Not exactly."

Greg cleared his throat, clearly looking as if he felt like a third wheel. "I'm just… going to… grab something and… go… find Nick. See you at dinner?" He asked, mostly in Sara's direction.

"I don't know… I've heard they got this really boring keynote speaker…" she flashed a wry little grin in Gil's direction.

He blinked again, not remembering Sara as having a particularly snarky side… but he liked the smile that came with the snark. "So I heard," he replied in a dry tone. "Unfortunately I have to be there. I'm the boring keynote speaker," a fact of which he knew by that grin she was well aware.

"Well then I guess maybe I'll show up too," she said, as Greg made his exit. Sara turned to Gil, her expression hesitant. "Should I let you get back to whatever you were doing?"

"No… I mean… I wasn't really doing anything. I was just..." he realized she was looking at the notebook under his arm. "I was going to go over my speech one more time. But I wouldn't mind the company," he added, almost as question, seeming a little unsure of whether or not it would be a well received invitation.

Her smile deepened, however. "Sounds good," she said, falling into easy stride next to him as they headed for the elevators. Walking together felt natural… familiar.

"I was just going to go down the restaurant," he told her in an apologetic tone as they got into the elevator. "I'm not sure what they have in the way of vegetarian entrees."

"I'm sure I can get a salad."

He nodded. Pressed the button. Looked over at her again. "You seem… happy," Gil told her, still hesitant, trying to find his footing with her again.

When he had come back to his place to find her gone, no note this time, he knew it was his fault. Their last conversation hadn't gone well and, in retrospect, he was no longer certain if the things he'd told her about relationships atrophying had been him talking about them, their relationship, or if he'd been talking about the case. At the time, he would have sworn he was only talking about the case.

They hadn't spoken since. He had tried. He let a couple of weeks go by, some time for them both to think. But by then, her number was no longer in service and her mother either didn't know or wouldn't tell him where Sara had gone.

The last place he'd ever expected her to turn up was at a forensics conference in London.

"I am happy," she answered his observation as simply as she could.

"Where do you work?"

"Cardiff."

He faced her with a startled look. "In Wales?"

Sara smiled; of course Gil would know where Cardiff was, and he wouldn't make the sort of mistake Greg had.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped back, allowing her to go first. In answer to his question, she simply nodded. She knew that sooner or later, most likely sooner, she was going to have to tackle the elephant in the room…

"How long have you been in Cardiff?"

"Eight months."

He blinked. Eight months ago she'd left Las Vegas for the second time (although her being back had never been presumed to be permanent, as much as he would have wished otherwise.)

The elevator doors opened again, depositing them in the lobby.

"I thought about staying with my Mom for a while," she told him honestly. "But I didn't think that going home would really make me happy." They walked across the lobby towards the restaurant together.

"Sometimes going home isn't the answer," said Gil.

"That's exactly what Jack said."

"Jack?"

"Jack Harkness," she said the name with an audible smile. "My boss."

He just nodded. The hostess sat them at a small table for two; Gil held her chair for her and she thanked him… he held himself carefully in check. His heart had skipped at least one beat when he saw her standing there behind Greg… but just because she was here didn't mean… it didn't mean anything at all.

When the waitress came over she ordered a salad. Not wanting to offend her sensitivities, he asked for the same. Despite having been hungry ten minutes ago, he didn't think he was going to really be able to eat much anyway.

Sara was here. She was sitting with him. She hadn't said one word about their last conversation, a topic he would expect most women to want to tackle immediately… but Sara wasn't like most women… she wasn't like any woman he'd ever met before and he had a dozen questions he wanted to ask but he didn't know how to ask a single one of them.

Instead, he filled up the time they spent waiting for their food by telling her how everyone was doing 'back home.'

Sara smiled at his calling it that… Las Vegas hadn't felt like home for her in far longer than she'd realized until now.

There were people she missed… people she didn't miss. But it hadn't been home except for a few brief moments… She smiled at the man sitting across from her now. "Don't let me keep you from your speech."

"Hmmm? Oh. Right," he picked up his notebook and turned to his notes. Then he put it down again. "Sara. Why are you here? If you're not in forensics…?"

"I still do some forensic work. Besides. You're here," her smile was as tight as the knots in her stomach. "I wanted to see you."

"You haven't called…or sent an email…"

"In eight months, I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't sure what to say."

"You could have told me you were doing all right. You could have said where you were. That you were happy."

She took a sip of her water. "If I told you that my work schedule is crazy, it would be the truth. But that isn't the reason I haven't called."

He nodded, accepting her statement and the courage it took to be that honest.

"I have missed you," Sara admitted. "But… the things that got said the last time I saw you… you were right."

"I was?"

She chuckled at the earnestness of his tone. "Yes, Gil, you were right. If you let something stagnate long enough it withers. It dies. Only… I couldn't come back, not to the lab, not even to Vegas."

He paused a long moment, considering his words more carefully than he had the last time they'd spoken; for her part, Sara waited patiently until he'd gathered and organized his thoughts. "I can understand your not wanting to come back to the lab. But why not Las Vegas?" his tone was very carefully neutral and her very specifically left him and their relationship out of the equation.

Which didn't mean she didn't understand what he was really asking. "I will _always_ love you, Gil. But there is something about that place. Just being there for a little while reminded me of all the reasons I left in the first place. All the things I hate."

"You said in your letter that you felt like you were running away your whole life. Running away from your life."

"I was."

He considered carefully before stating the obvious. "Wasn't coming over here just more running?"

"It was. At first. I packed my bags and just… just got on the first plane headed out of the airport," she confessed, feeling the tears welling up again, unbidden. She'd known then that wherever she ended up, she would never, ever come back. "I'd already tried going home, Gil. It didn't work. I couldn't find myself in the past. I couldn't find myself where I was. So I left. I told myself that wherever I landed, there would be no turning back. No more running away."

She almost hadn't gotten on the plane. The first flight out was to Cardiff International Airport which was a lot further than she'd expected to go… at most, she expected to fly to Chicago or New York. Getting on that plane meant letting go completely, knowing that wherever she landed, she _couldn't _come back home, she didn't have the money for a return flight. She said as much aloud. "It was either the bravest… or the dumbest… thing I've ever done."

"It seems to have worked out," Gil observed.

"I was completely numb by the time the plane landed," she confided with a shy smile. "I was so scared. I hardly had a thousand dollars in my pocket and no idea how to even start looking for a job or what I'd need to get one. I walked to a café in the airport, just to get a cup of coffee and think about what I'd done… if I should call someone and beg them to wire me some money so I could come home," she could laugh at the memory now, but that the time she couldn't remember too many more instances where she'd been more scared. "I guess it was just… dumb luck that I found a newspaper lying on the table where I sat down. It was open to the 'room mates' wanted section. The second place I called on was with this incredibly sweet lady who was willing to take it 'a day at a time.' She didn't mind that I could only give her one month's rent with no guarantee that I'd be able to stay," she took another sip of her water.

All of Mrs. Chandler's children were grown; Sara had gotten the impression that she was looking for company more than someone to pay the rent. Which was probably why Sara was hadn't moved out (that and having someone to share meals with, at least when she was home was nice.) Plus there was also a certain convenience to the location…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Random Acts of Kindness **

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"_There are no little events in life, those we think of no consequence may be full of fate, and it is at our own risk if we neglect the acquaintances and opportunities that seem to be casually offered, and of small importance."_

Amelia E. Barr.

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_**Eight Months Ago **__(which for the sake of clarity is autumn, 2008, just a couple of months before Tony put in his appearance in More Short Stories)__**…**_

…

The sound of a child crying drew Sara's attention away from the help wanted section of the newspaper. She'd moved in with Mrs. Chandler less than a week ago and wasn't at all sure she would be able to get a job, even if she could find one (or what she was qualified to do), but at the moment, the mournful sobs coming from outside the front window seemed more important than her own problems.

The little boy was sitting on the sidewalk just outside the house, clutching his bleeding knee, huge tears rolling down his cheeks. His bicycle was lying near by.

"Hey there," Sara said as she approached the child. Although she thought she remembered seeing this particular dark haired boy walking home from school a couple of times, she hadn't met any of the neighbours even say hello. She didn't recall if she'd ever noticed which house she'd the youngster went home to – watching the neighbours had never been one of Sara's favourite pastimes, even when she had nothing better to do with herself.

The boy looked up with big tear-filled blue eyes as she got closer.

"My name's Sara," she introduced herself before kneeling down; the last thing she wanted to do was scare the kid. "You ok?"

He shook his head, his eyes swelling up with more tears.

"Would it be all right if I took a look at that?" she asked. Besides having a skinned knee, the boy's arm was scraped from his elbow down to his hand; his palm was scraped up as well. "You took a pretty good tumble, huh?" she looked over his injuries; none of them looked too bad, mostly he just seemed frightened by the fall. "Just learning to ride… or were you going too fast?" she asked with a warm smile. He looked about nine, maybe ten years old.

"Still learning. I got it last Christmas from my Tad. I still can't ride real good," he said glumly.

"I remember learning to my first two-wheeler," she told him with another warm smile, although she had no idea what a 'tad' was. "Do you live around here?"

Before he could answer a door opened up on one of the houses across the street. A smartly dressed young man came hurrying down the steps. "Jason!"

"I'm ok," the boy forced an almost convincing stiff upper lip.

"That's hardly looks ok," the man said as he joined them, kneeling down. He took the child's arm in hand and looked it and the boy's knee over with what seemed a practiced eye.

"Well," said Sara, "it looks like you've got it from here," she stood up. The man seemed brisk… but brisk was hardly the same thing as insensitive… or abusive.

Just thinking that made her realize how cynical she'd become the last few years. The first thing she looked for in almost every situation was anything that might be abuse or neglect. She gave herself a good mental shake. She had to stop looking at everybody as if they were either a perpetrator or a victim; some people were just muddling through their lives, neither good nor bad, just doing the best they could. Just like her.

The man gave her a polite smile, "Thank you… Miss…?"

"Sidle. Please… Sara," she said.

"Thank you, Sara… now," he gave the child a hand up as he stood himself. "Let's get you cleaned up before...."

"But my bike…!" Jason protested.

"I can walk it over," she offered. "If… you don't mind…?" she looked to what she presumed was the father… although the boy had an almost American sounding accent and the man was definitely Welsh... so… step father, maybe? Not that it was really any of her business.

"Thank you, again," the Welshman was saying, his tone cordial. He held out his hand. "Ianto Jones."

"Nice to meet you," she accepted before retrieving the bike then joining them as they headed across the street; the man had his arm draped around the boy's shoulders. The boy was limping a little but mostly seemed none the worse for wear.

"You have beautiful roses," she commented of the six neatly trimmed rose bushes in the front garden.

Ianto Jones flashed a warm smile over his shoulder; clearly the roses were his effort, not his wife's. "Thank you. My mam… erm…mother… always had roses," he said.

"I've never been able to keep plants alive for more than a week," she admitted.

He chuckled. "I'll have to remember that… I mean… I'll bring you some. Flowers, that is, not the whole plant. Wouldn't want to send some unsuspecting bit of flora to its doom," he teased.

"You really don't have to…" She re-evaluated her assessment. He was wearing a ring… divorcee, maybe? Cute. But way too young.

"The last of the blooms will be dying soon with winter anyway. Might as well give them away to our hero of hour," he gave said. "Would you like to come in? There's should still be some coffee in the pot."

"I don't want to impose."

"No imposition," he opened the door and stepped aside, making Jason do the same, so she could go first. "Forgive the clutter," he asked as she went inside. "My partner has yet to discover what clothes hangers are for," his exasperated tone made Jason giggle. While he was talking, Ianto scooped the big blue coat up off the banister. "Kitchen's through there," he nodded. "Help yourself to a cup of coffee. We'll be back down in a tick… Jack…!" he hollered up the stair. "We've company! If you're not dressed, please put a shirt on…"

(Sara blinked, but kept a straight face, even as her mental picture of Mr. Ianto Jones' life rearranged itself in her mind again.)

Ianto turned back to Jason. "Let's get you washed up."

"Can you do it, Yan? _Please."_

The child's plea made Sara stop and give them a second look until she heard the Welshman's soft chuckle. It was anything but unkind. "As scared of your Papa's first aid skills as the rest of us?" he asked the boy.

"I heard that!" called a male voice with an American accent form somewhere upstairs.

Ianto gave her another warm smile, promised they'd just be a few moments, and said that she should help herself to coffee.

Feeling a little awkward, Sara made her way into the strange kitchen. It was painfully neat. There were cups hanging from pegs over the counter… coffee in the pot. It smelled heavenly.

She was just pouring herself a cup when she heard the American voice behind her. "At least he has good taste."

Sara whirled around startled. The man standing there with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face was wearing just trousers, a white t-shirt and suspenders.

"I beg your pardon?" she queried in his direction.

"If Ianto's going to start inviting in strangers into our house, at least he picked someone as pretty as you," he raised his eyebrows slightly. "Captain Jack Harkness," he said by way of introduction, striding forward, extending one hand towards her.

She accepted his handshake, although she wasn't quite sure what to make of his comment. "Sara Sidle."

"An American."

"You too."

One side of his mouth quirked up just a little higher; he got himself down a mug and filled it with coffee. "So what brings you to Cardiff, Miss Sara Sidle?"

She hesitated… but it seemed like an innocent enough question despite the look on his face. "I needed to make some changes in my life."

Jack's smirk warmed into a genuine smile, "Cardiff is a good place for that."

"Only if I can find a job," she leant against the counter keeping a respectable distance between them. It was hard to tell if he was actually flirting or if it was just some act that had been so well practiced he didn't know how to drop it. A quick glance at his left hand revealed that he was indeed wearing a wedding ring, just like she'd expected.

"What do you do?" he asked.

Instead of answering the question, she told him that she was looking for something new. "Something different," she added.

"Any ideas what you're looking for?"

"Not really."

He leaned in a little closer. "What're you good at?"

His tone made that sound like a come on, but the look on his face betrayed nothing but sincere interest.

She still found herself blushing. Or maybe it was his aftershave… "My degree is in physics. I ended up going into forensics after college," she gave the simplest answer she could. "But… I'm tired of dealing with death. Tired of not being able to help the victims."

He raised an eyebrow.

She just shrugged. "I got burned out."

"Where'd you go to school?"

She shot a wary look.

"We've got a friend who's a… hmm… I think all around forensics goddess is her current title," Jack explained.

"That's quite a title."

"She's quite a goddess."

Sara regarded him a moment more, sipping her coffee, before answering the initial question. "I went to Harvard but did my graduate work at Berkley."

"I _love_ California," he said with a winsome smile.

"I would have pegged that accent as more mid-west," she observed.

He chuckled, "Illinois. But I've done a bit of travelling. You?"

"This is my first time outside the U.S. It's the furthest I've ever been from home." Not that she felt as if she knew where home was any more.

"Home isn't necessarily the place you're born," he commented, as if understanding her expression and the thoughts behind it.

She just shrugged again and they lapsed into a brief exchange of small talk until Jason came bounding into the kitchen and straight into his father's arms.

"Hey there, Buddy!" Jack scooped him up. "I hear you had spill… nice job picking up a pretty lady, though," he added in a not-quite-hushed voice, shooting a wink at Sara that made her blush a deep shade of crimson, although she had no idea why.

Ianto groaned and rolled his eyes, "Please don't frighten the neighbours, Cariad. It's too early in the morning."

"Does that mean I can frighten them later on? Tonight maybe…?" he flashed a lascivious smirk in the younger man's direction, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

Ianto made a point of ignoring him. "Thank you again, Sara."

"I didn't really do much, but you're welcome. And you," she took a step closer to Jack and Jason, her attention focused on the child, "be more careful next time, ok? I don't want to have to pick you up off the sidewalk again."

Jason nodded.

Ianto cleared his throat, fixing him with a stern look.

"Thanks for helping with my bike, Miss Sidle," he said a little shyly.

"You're very welcome."

"All right," the Welshman said, "I have to go…"

"Would you put on another pot of coffee before you leave? Please?" Jack set down his son and pressed his hands together. "Pretty please?"

"I'm late as it is, Jack," he sounded exasperated.

He slid in close, tugging at his partner's lapels until he had the other's lips captured in a kiss. "You could tell them I had you tied up all morning," his tone suggested that he meant that literally. "There are certain advantages to being married to the boss you know," he added with another smirk followed by soft, sensual kiss to his Welshman's lips.

Watching the two men, Sara felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She wasn't used to open displays of affection.

"They're _always_ like this," Jason advised her. "It's gross."

She gave him a more scrutinizing look… but no, it didn't seem as if Jason was bothered by his father and his father's male partner kissing, he was bothered the same way most kids that age were bothered by their parents kissing.

"All right… all right…" said Ianto, in between kisses. "I'll put on a pot, but then I _have _to go."

"He makes the best coffee," Jack explained to their blushing guest.

"It's the only reason he married me," Ianto quipped back.

"I told you, it was the suit," countered the other. He turned back to Sara, leaning against the counter, his cup still in one hand. "So where abouts are you from?" he asked her.

"Just outside San Francisco originally, but I've lived most of the last few years in Las Vegas."

"Some town," Ianto commented.

"Tell me about it."

"There," said the Welshman, having set up the coffee. He turned to Jack. "Oh… with all the excitement, I almost forgot to mention, your mother called. She won't be home until after lunch, so you two are on your own for breakfast."

"Must've been some hot date she had," he smirked.

"I didn't press the issue."

Jack just continued smirking.

"See you later…"

"Hey," he reached out and caught the Welshman up in another kiss, completely heedless of the stranger standing in their kitchen. "I love you. Take it easy out there today."

"I will. I love you too." After extracting himself from his partner, again, he turned to their guest. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sara. I hope we see you again sometime…?"

"I'm sure you will." She drained the last of her coffee. She had to admit, it _was_ good.

Ianto nodded and turned to Jason; he wrapped the boy up in a hug. "No more spills, ok? It's bad enough your Papa's always trying to give me a heart attack."

The boy had a smile very much like his father's. "I'll try," he promised.

"Just take it easy. And you two behave yourselves," he shot both Jack and Jason a warning glance that made them both grin, mirrored attempts at innocence that not even a complete stranger found believable.

Then Sara watched Jack watching his partner walk out of the house. The Captain's gaze seemed to take in and caress every inch of the other man...

Jack, having noticed her watching him, just smiled, even when she blushed. "More coffee?" he offered.

"I…"

Before she could refuse, he refilled cup. "I was about to start an old fashioned American breakfast. Care to join us?"

* * *

_**A/N: **_

_I don't know about any one esle's experiences, but watching my own daughter start to call her step father "my Dad" to her friends was one of the most amazing things... she still calls him by name to his face, but the way his face lights up when he hears her talking to her friends..._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** once again huge thank you to everybody who has taken the time to read and review / favourite/alert list this!

Also THANK YOU to sidlerocks for a minor (but important to me!) correction on the last chapter. Storywise it's no biggy, Sara's course work was in physics... although I can see Jack and Ianto looking at her transcripts and considering her an even better catch than before :)

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Events of Life**

* * *

_"Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light."  
~ Albert Schweitzer_

* * *

"I don't know if I believe in fate," said Sara, finishing her salad and her story at the same time. She left out the more colourful details of her first meeting with Captain Jack Harkness. There were things her old boss didn't need to now about her new boss.

"Someone once said that there is no fate but what we make for ourselves…"

"Isn't that from the Terminator?"

"Is it?"

"I think so."

"Well. Just because it was used in a movie doesn't make it any less true."

Sara chuckled, unable to deny the warmth she felt sitting there with Gil after so many months apart. She knew she still loved him, would always love him. She could almost pretend that what had passed between them before had never happened… that last conversation. All the things he'd said without really saying them.

Since joining Torchwood she had seen more things, strange… wonderful… amazing things… it made her problems, _their _problems, seem small by comparison.

After breakfast that morning eight months ago, Sara watched Jack help Jason with the bike. Apparently the training wheels had just come off; Jason didn't want to be the only kid his age who still needed them. Watching Jack interact with his son – watching any parent and child interact – brought to the fore all the things she'd been running away from.

Later on, sitting with the Captain in he and Ianto's kitchen, she found herself pouring her heart out to him even though he was a complete stranger. But he was right when he told her that sometimes it was easier to talk to someone who didn't know you.

He listened to her with making judgements, without knowing any of the other people involved and without asking her to be objective. She didn't need objectivity, she just needed somebody to listen without judging. For a man, he was remarkably good at that. He didn't try to fix her problem, he just let her talk.

The next day Ianto sent Jason over with the roses, as promised. Mrs. Chandler admitted that when he and Jack had first moved into the neighbourhood she'd had some trepidation… _all the things one hears about __**those**__ sorts of people…_ but she'd completely changed her mind about them within in the first month. Odd hours aside, according to Mrs. Chandler, they were a lovely couple and the kept the house up better than the previous owners ever had.

A few days later, Jack came over needing an emergency babysitter, his mother was out and something had come up at work… even though they paid her (despite her insistence that they didn't need to), they invited her over for dinner the next day to say thank you. She had almost suspected something untoward… Jack was certainly a big enough flirt… but Jason was there and she finally got to meet Jack's mother. Ella turned out to be more well grounded than Sara's initial expectations.

Dinner itself was Jacks' 'famous chilli'. She thought, eight months later, that her taste buds might finally have grown back. She suspected that whatever spices he used, they had to be extraterrestrial. When she'd asked, he'd simply offered up one of those little smirks of his.

One thing had led to another... there was another emergency babysitting plea, this time in the middle of the night… dinner… coffee… her first bonfire night (Mrs. Chandler had invited her tenant to join her with her family, but Sara hadn't wanted to impose. Jack, on the other hand, wouldn't take no for an answer; she completely believed him when he said he would pick her up and bodily carry her across the street if she didn't put on her coat and come along willingly.)

Around Christmas, Jack told her he might have a job opening if she was interested. Of course he didn't mention some of the finer points of the job in question…

She said she might be, anyway. If it weren't for the increasing number of babysitting emergancies (she'd begun to suspect at least half those 'emergancies' were manufactured) she woudln't have had any money at all.

Jack ran a background check on her. He let her explain the black marks on her record, mostly couple of write-ups for insubordination (one of which had almost gotten her fired.) When he asked her if there was anything else, she admitted to a DUI even though she was never actually booked; the cops who pulled her over had cut her a break. But she knew all it would take was a phone call to the Crime Lab's Assistant Director, Conrad Eclkie, a man who had never seemed to like Sara, for Jack to get every detail of the incident.

The Captain listened to her side of the story the same way he'd listened to everything else, without seeming to pass judgement and for her part, she tried to be as honest as she knew how. There were times in the past when she hadn't been at her best, when she wasn't proud of her actions. She was working through it… thought she had worked through it.

_That's why I left Vegas the first time,_ she'd told him. She didn't blame the city, the 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' campaign to lure in more tourists, it was just that everything about Las Vegas reminded her of her own failings. She had needed to get away. To find herself.

No one in Cardiff held that against her; eventually Jack told her enough about his past for her to understand why. _The past is in the past, _he said. _All I care about is who you are today. Who you want to be tomorrow. If you want the job, it's yours._

"So what are you doing?" asked Gil; he'd barely touched his lunch.

"Special Ops," she gave the simplest version of the truth she could.

The surprise showed on his face. "What sort of 'special ops'? Who do you work for?"

"It's called the Torchwood Institute. I work out of the Cardiff office." Although to call the Hub an office was stretching the term 'office' to its very limits.

Gil's brows furrowed more deeply. "What do you do?" he wanted to know.

_There's a rift through time and space that runs through Cardiff, we monitor it and clean up what comes through… _she remembered her reaction when Jack explained what Torchwood did. Despite everything that the world had seen, that she'd seen, it was the most incredible thing she'd ever heard anyone say out loud. Most people were trying to forget what had happened with the Daleks. Jack had offered her the opportunity to forget, at least everything she'd seen at the Hub… she didn't want to forget.

"I love my job," she answered the question without answering it. "I love the people I work with." _As completely mad as they could be at times_…

His frown deepened. "But what do you _**do?"**_ he pressed, clearly not willing to let it drop.

She realized she should have expected this part; she was sure she had expected it on some level, she just hadn't thought about the answers she would give. "I work with people who have been hurt, people who need help." Which was how she thought about her job most days. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than it had ever been in Vegas or anywhere else she'd worked.

He wasn't convinced. "Hurt how? By whom?"

"The only thing that matters is that it's good work, with good people. I'm not sitting by while criminals get off on technicalities. I'm actually _doing _something. I make a difference."

"You always made a difference, Sara."

"No," she shook her head. "I didn't. I was… spinning my wheels, watching people who deserved to be locked up get away because of some judge… some lawyer… a screwed up system where the criminals have more rights than the victims," she couldn't help the bitterness of her tone.

"The UK's leagal system isn't that different from the system we have in the United States..."

She was saved from his obvious disapproval by the sudden appearance of Greg and Nick.

"Hey, hey," Nick greeted her with an ear to ear smile. "A little bird told me you were here," he cast a sidelong glance at the younger man grinning impishly next to him. "I wasn't sure I should believe him."

Nick was caught off guard by the way Sara rose to her feet, capturing him in a warm embrace; he wasn't sure he remembered her being physically affectionate, even with her friends. He hugged her back anyway, holding on just a moment longer than he might have a year ago. "You look good," he told her in a sincere tone. She looked different… _happy. _Something over here had definitely been good for her.

"You're not looking so bad yourself, Nickey," she grinned back at him.

"Nickey, huh?" he raised his eyebrows in question.

She just shrugged. Maybe working in a place where the day as often as not started out with an impromptu basketball game, complete with a pet pterodactyl swooping down to swipe the ball out of midair had made her too relaxed…. Working side by side with people like Abby, Bobby and Mickey had made her forget how rigid things were at the crime lab back in Vegas… but the warmth of Nick's expression gave her the impression he might not mind if she were a little more relaxed.

"So… we were thinking," Greg ventured, casting Grissom a quick glance as if seeking his approval for something. "We've got a few hours before dinner… you wanna show us around?" he said hopefully in Sara's direction.

She laughed. "I'm not sure what kind of tour guide I'll make. This is my first time up to London."

"Come on," said Nick. "You live like what… two hours from here? Greg looked it up on Yahoo," he explained to her inquisitive look.

"Work doesn't give me much free time."

"Just like the old days, huh?" said Nick.

She found her gaze wandering over to a very quiet Gil Grissom. "Not really. But… I'll tell you what, there were a few places I wanted to check out while I was here. I'd love the company," her glance included all three of them as she hoped Gil would take her up on the invitation.

It came as no surprise when he didn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: London**

* * *

_To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.  
**~Henri Bergson~**_

* * *

"Who're you calling?" Nick asked when Sara pulled out her phone.

"Just sending a text message to my boss," she explained, her thumbs flying over they keys. She couldn't resist the urge to tell Jack she was standing in front of Big Ben, although there was no space ship to be found, invisible or otherwise.

A moment later he returned the message to ask if she was alone.

She answered with a simple no, while Greg and Nick chatted with each other.

A few moments more and she received another message....

Nick and Greg looked up as Glen Miller's _Moonlight Serenade_ came out of Sara's phone.

Nick raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I think my boss thought I was here with someone else," she explained aloud, as she typed in the same thing to Jack.

Now, of course, Jack wanted to know who she was with and were they cute…

She was spared from having to answer right way by Greg. "Even if you're not here with Grissom," he ventured, holding out his hand to her. "It seems a shame to waste the song."

Sara blinked.

"May I have this dance?" he clarified the proposition.

She chuckled, accepting.

Nick was _sure_ he'd never heard Sara laugh quite like that before. It had almost sounded like a giggle. He was equally certain he never, ever, would have seen the day she'd dance with Greg (or anyone else) in the street. It wasn't that she was overly self conscious or anything, it was just that she was so… restrained… most of the time.

Greg, not particularly surprisingly, was hamming it up by giving her a twirl and a dip that sent the tree of them (and several passes by) laughing as the song ended.

Nick shook his head, "Something has definitely been good for you over here," he told his former colleague.

"Life's been good to me," she said simply. Jack was buzzing her again. She answered back with a quick text that she was with a couple of former co-workers, and yes they were cute, but no, they weren't interested in a foursome… or any other number the Captain could come up with. She put her phone away.

"What was that about?" Greg asked of the last, rather lengthy, message she'd sent.

"I decided to stop him before he asked me to invite you two back to Cardiff with me."

"Oh?" said Nick.

Sara missed the bemused look he and Greg exchanged. She blushed anyway. "Jack's… hmm…. He's Jack. He flirts with everything that moves. Don't take it personally."

"Is he cute, at least?" Greg's question surprised her, but she didn't comment. "What?" the young man said to the look Nick was shooting. "If some strange guy is flirting with me over a text message I at least want to know what he looks like," his tone made the incredulousness apparent. The situation was too silly to be taken seriously.

Nick just shook his head.

Sara pulled her phone back out and brought up a picture of Jack, Ianto and Jason, explaining briefly who they were.

"Why do I get the feeling this Torchwood of yours isn't anything like the crime lab," Nick observed.

She laughed, "It definitely isn't _anything_ like the crime lab."

However, getting into the particulars about what made Torchwood different wasn't a conversation she wanted to have, but not because of all the things she couldn't say about her work. There was just no way to easily explain the rest of the team to people who didn't know them because it wasn't the place so much as the people that made the difference.

Jack wasn't obsessed with the science, he cared about the people. Ianto, for all he was a stickler about the little things, didn't push the rule book down anyone's throat. Abby was brilliant, but she didn't need to constantly prove it, at least not to anyone but herself. There was no haggling over promotions because after Jack and Ianto, they were all equal – and Ianto would argue that he was just as equal as the rest of them despite the fact that he carried the title Office Manager. When they took a day off together, Jack usually left Gwen in charge because she had the most experience; no one resented that and she didn't hold it over anyone's head. At the end of the day they all cared about the same thing: getting the job done with the least amount of harm to life, human or otherwise, as possible.

"So where to next?" asked Greg, sliding his arm through the crook of Sara's elbow.

"I don't know. You guys feel like checking out the Globe?" she suggested.

……………………………………………………………..

Gil fixed Sara with a smile as he opened his hotel room door for the second time in one day to find her standing on the other side. This time at least she'd gotten as far as knocking. Although he hadn't been expecting her.

"Nick and Greg asked me to walk down to dinner with them," she explained to the startled look in his eyes. They were the only thing that betrayed his surprise at finding her on his doorstep yet again. She was beginning to smell a set up.

"Oh. They both stepped out."

She just smiled, wondering which one of them deserved the Cupid's wings. She realized she should have expected something like this. It wasn't like it was any kind of secret that she wasn't really here for the conference.

"You look nice," Gil's voice cut through her thoughts.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she replied easily. He always had looked good in a suit.

Gil stepped back and invited her to come in. "I'm sure they won't be long. I don't even know where they went," he frowned slightly.

Sara held in her chuckle.

A quick glance at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser confirmed that she looked more than good. It was a formal dinner. She'd taken the time to do her hair up a bit more than usual and she was wearing a pair of earrings she'd bought while she was out with the guys sight seeing that afternoon.

"Gilbert," she said slowly, inadvertently cutting him off as he started to say something.

He stilled his tongue and gave a slight nod, indicating she should speak first.

She smiled. "I… we… are only going to be in London together for the next couple of days. I'd like to spend some time with you," she told him bluntly.

He blinked. Sometimes she wondered if he was truly as dense as he came across at times or if it was just an act, like Colombo… but no, duplicity wasn't in his nature.

"I don't just mean dinner tonight," Sara explained. "I have missed you. Very much. And I know we've only got a couple of days. I don't want to waste it trying to figure out how to say all the things I feel. Life is too short." She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. He didn't hesitate in responding.

"Nick and Greg aren't coming back before dinner, are they?" he asked, several long, lovely moments later.

"I doubt it."

He chuckled softly, understanding. "The things I said… the last time I saw you…"

She waved it off. "You were right."

"That doesn't mean it was the right thing to have said."

"Maybe not. But if you hadn't, I wouldn't be here."

"Nick said you were happy."

"I I'm happier in Cardiff than I've ever been anywhere else," she told him honestly. He deserved to know that she was never coming back.

He nodded his understanding. Then he surprised her by taking her hands into his. "I'm sorry about earlier, Sara. I made a snap judgement about where you work. What you do. I don't… I don't honestly know what you do or who you're working for. But I trust your judgement. I trust _you."_

"You have no idea how much that means to me."

His smile mirrored hers. "After dinner… would… you like to take a walk?" he couldn't think of where else to invite her. Dinner would probably run late.

"That sounds… fantastic," she grinned. Fantastic was probably Abby's favourite word after hinkey. She heard it at least six or seven times a day every time they worked together.

"Fantasic, huh?" he couldn't help the smile that cracked across his usually stoic façade.

"Absolutely fantastic."

Gil chuckled softly and offered her his arm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Moonlight Serenade**

* * *

_I hold it true, whate'er befall;  
I feel it, when I sorrow most;  
'Tis better to have loved and lost  
Than never to have loved at all._

_Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

* * *

Walking past the shops and businesses on the brightly lit street of Canary Wharf, Sara couldn't help thinking back to what had happened there. It was a reminder how every decision, big or small, could impact the whole world…

Gil's voice cut through her reverie. "You seem distracted."

"Sorry," she pulled her wrap a little tighter around her shoulders.

"Cold?"

She smiled over at him. "Not really." She slid her arm into his and they walked further, in comfortable, companionable silence. Her mind stopped wandering to other places and settled itself happily on her companion. On the way he made her feel. She realized she had forgiven him completely for what he'd said before, about relationships and atrophy.

"I'm glad you found a place that makes you happy, Sara," he said then, his tone a little hesitant.

She understood – or presumed she did. He was happy that she was happy but not happy that it meant she wasn't ever coming back. "I love my job," she said. "I'm not just sitting on the sidelines processing evidence. I actually get to do something for the victims," she needed him to understand that part at least. She wanted him to know that it was good work, something she was proud of, even if she couldn't talk about it. "It's not always as much as I want to be able to do," she added, honestly. "There are days when I scream at my boss…"

"You yell at your boss?" he blinked in surprise.

Sara chuckled. "Jack's not you. Or Catherine. He's definitely not Ecklie. Don't get me wrong, I respect him. We all do. But sometimes we yell at him. At each other."

Gil's frown deepened, but he made a point of listening to what she was saying. He wanted to understand what was going on in her life. He wanted to understand _her_. Maybe if he had tried just a little harder before… maybe if he had listened more… heard more… Sara was speaking:

"The job… any job… is stressful. If you don't have an outlet… a way to get it all out, it ends up festering inside," she found herself repeating what Jack had said to her after the first time she'd blown up at him.

When he called her into his office, about an hour after the argument, she was expecting a reprimand, a write up. Possibly even a little white pill. She had said a few things that were way out of line and she knew it.

Jack's anger was apparent on his face, but so was his understanding. In the end, he'd dragged it out of her that she'd been upset about a number of things, not all of them job related, but it had finally all come out in one big explosion… he made her promise to never do that again.

"_If you need to yell at me, yell at me. I'm a big boy, I can take it."_

_She couldn't help the smile; she suspected that was his intent._

Only after he'd put her at ease did he ask Ianto to bring in the coffee so they could talk.

"Jack was my friend before he was my boss," she told Gil. It was the one thing the Captain had pointed out to her that had come as a surprise. He wanted her to think of him as her friend first… he was only her boss when they were in the field, when he needed to know she would follow his orders, no matter how difficult or disagreeable they were. Afterwards she could yell at him all she wanted and he wouldn't hold it against her. He reminded her that he'd been shot by one of his employees and Owen hadn't gotten the sack over it.

A few harsh words, said Jack, weren't the end of the world; they'd seen the end of the world, more than once. When he put it like that, he put it into prospective.

He put a lot of things into prospective.

Sara fished around her handbag for her phone.

Gil frowned.

She smiled. A moment later, Glen Miller was playing. "Jack sent this to me earlier." she explained. "He thought I was out with you, not Nick and Greg."

"Your boss likes Glen Miller?"

"My boss likes a lot of things," she couldn't help her smile.

………………………………………………………………

Looking up into those brown eyes… that beautiful face surrounded by loose brown curls… her smile… he loved her smile.

Sara leaned in and kissed him, long and hard, deepening the kiss, holding it. Her body pressed against his under the sheets… she moved gently. Gracefully. Sensually, drawing out the moment as if it were the last moment on earth and she wanted to linger over it. Revel in it.

"I have never fully understood what you see in me," Gil admitted when she finally eased away from him.

Sara's chuckle was soft. "I didn't always know either. I just know I love you. You… make me feel… grounded. Whole. Happy. When I left, I wasn't leaving you."

"I know. I'm not sure I realized it at the time… consciously of course I knew… but subconsciously…" he shrugged. He understood her need to find herself; it was a basic human desire, to know who one was, to be at some kind of peace with that knowledge. It hadn't made it hurt less, however, especially when all he found was a letter the first time she'd walked out on him. On them.

He had asked her to marry him. She had said yes.

"I wish you would have talked to me more," he said, carefully, unsure what sort of reaction the statement was going to garner. A year ago, he might have been able to predict her reactions, but this Sara – for all that she looked and sounded like his Sara – was different. She had grown. Changed. He wasn't sure he found it unappealing. She seemed more confident in herself. More at ease. Happier. It was good to see her happy.

She settled in next to him, curling up with her head on his chest before answering that she wished she would have, too.

He snugged his arm around her tighter. "You know I still want…" but the look on her face stilled the thought before it became a spoken statement. "I still love you," he said instead. She had made her position clear. She wasn't coming back. Not to Las Vegas. Not to the United States. If he wanted her…

"I will always love you, Gil. _Always_."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

She gave him a look. "Do you think I'd be in bed with you, if I was?"

He shrugged. "It would all depend on your arrangement, I suppose."

"How very twenty-first century of you, Gilbert," she teased him lightly. Then, in a more serious tone, she explained that no, she wasn't seeing anybody. "Not for lack of trying on Mickey's part," she added with a half-smile.

"Mickey?"

"Mickey Smith. He seemed to think since we were the only two single people at work we should – and I quote – 'hook up.'"

"Oh dear."

She chuckled that much harder, "Oh dear is right," she echoed. "He's a really sweet guy, but not at all my type." She leaned up and gave him another long, sensual kiss. The funny thing was that Mickey was more her type than the man who was in her bed at the moment, but there was no one else she would rather be with than this man here…

"Did Mr. Smith at least take the rejection gracefully?" Gil queried when their lips parted some moments later.

"We're friends. He was only half serious anyway, I think. Besides, life's too short to sweat stuff the little stuff."

He tilted his head slightly; she had said that life was too short a number of times over the course of the evening. Their walk. Coming back the hotel. Her room. Her bed… "Is everything all right?"

"Sure, why?"

He shook his head, deciding not to pursue it. "It's getting late. I should probably get back to my own room…"

"You could stay if you wanted," she suggested.

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have asked it if I wasn't."

They didn't end up getting much sleep that night… or the next.

……………………………………………………………………….

Over the course of the next two days, Sara managed to attend a couple of talks, including Gil's lecture. She sat up front and noticed how his eyes kept coming to rest on her. It filled her with the same sense of warmth, peace, his gaze always had. She returned his smile, took notes… met him afterwards for lunch. He ordered salad again, but this time he actually ate it.

In between dutifully attending conference activities, she found time to spend with Greg and Nick, who, while they respected that Grissom was her main reason for being there, seemed to be enjoying her company more than she remembered. It wasn't that she hadn't considered them both friends, it was that she had so rarely socialized with her co-workers, even the ones she considered friends. When they had all worked together, at the end of her day she would clock out and go home. Read a book. Professional journal. Take herself to a movie.

She never would have regularly gone to the pub or bowling with her co-workers. She certainly wouldn't be scheming with one of them the way she was scheming with Mickey to organize a softball game for the team. If she and Gil hadn't started seeing each other, she wouldn't ever have found herself at his place as regularly as she found herself at Jack and Ianto's… and she and Gil had been friends long before they started seeing one another.

Nick was the one who finally nailed what was different about her when he observed that her walls had come down.

"Not all of them," Sara assured him. Just the same she agreed; it was impossible to live life, to really enjoy it, stuck behind a huge mental and emotional barricade.

…………………………………………………………………….

"You know," Gil observed quietly, as he stood with Sara in the hotel lobby waiting for her cab on Sunday afternoon. "You never asked me if I was seeing anybody."

"I know."

He fixed her with a perplexed look.

It earned him a sweet smile. "I know if you were, you wouldn't have ended up in my bed, Gil. You're not like that."

"I suppose not."

Understanding what he wanted her to ask, Sara obliged, even though she knew the answer. "Have you been dating?"

"No."

"I'm never coming back, Gil."

"I know."

"All right."

Outside, a cab pulled up.

"If… if you ever find yourself over here again… feel free to drop in on me," she told him with a warm smile.

He raised his brows, just a little, his smile a mirror of her own. "I may."

"I hope you do." She leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss good-bye… she'd already said her good-byes to Nick and Greg. It hadn't nearly as difficult to tell them good-bye as it was to say good-bye to Gil. "I will always, _always_ love you, Dr. Gilbert Grissom," she whispered.

"I'll always love you too. With all my heart," he promised, meeting her gaze.

"I… I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. You're happy. I'm happy for you."

_And if the mountain couldn't come to Mohamed, perhaps it was time for Mohamed make a few sacrifices and come to the mountain… _


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: The Day the Earth Stood Still**

* * *

_The one unchangeable certainty is that nothing is certain or unchangeable.  
**~John F. Kennedy~**_

* * *

The one thing Sara would never miss about Las Vegas was the summer heat. Especially on days like this, with concrete pounding by under her shoes while her heart pounded in her ears in a rhythm to match. Up ahead the… person… teenager… male… cleared a three metre chain link fence in a single bound.

She and Mickey shot one another brief glances as they continued to chase after it. _Definitely __**not **__human. _Neither needed to say the words.

Mickey got to the top of the fence first and offered his a hand; she wasn't about to argue with him over not needing it. The last eight blocks she'd just sprinted after the wiry, human looking kid had winded her.

"What is it about this job and all the running?" Mickey teased, hauling her up by one hand.

She snickered and heaved herself the rest of the way over the fence and to the ground. Mickey landed next to her. The kid was nowhere to be seen.

"Gwen?" Sara spoke into her com. "Anything?"

"Ianto and Jack are on it… they caught the kid coming around the other side of the building."

"Now why didn't _we _think of that?" Mickey groaned.

She just smiled and shook her head at him; together, they jogged around to the front of the building just in time to see Jack and Ianto finishing the capture.

"We got lucky," the Captain assured them, as he hauled the restrained, unconscious kid over one shoulder. He looked to be no more than sixteen, well to the unattractive side of average, and dressed like a street kid. Worn jeans. Grimy blue hoodie. Ripped t-shirt… holes in his trainers.

"He literally ran into us," said Ianto, explaining further.

Jack tapped his com. "Gwen, get the locals to move these people outa here…." They seemed to have attracted a crowd and despite Ianto's assurance to the crowd in question that they were Torchwood, everything was fine, there was something sympathetic about the kid he'd just tackled to the ground and rendered unconscious with a quick injection of sedative.

Even as Gwen responded to say she was on it, several pc's came onto the scene, backing the crowd off so Torchwood could make their exit… but not without shooting a collective askance look at the Captain and his team.

No matter how many times they helped the local authorities out, no matter how many times they saved the world when nobody was looking, no one ever seemed to trust them…

Jack stifled the sourness of his mood. He didn't want recognition or even approval, but some days the scowls got to him…

……………………………………………………………………….

Back in the Hub, dripping wet with seawater, Sara peeled herself out of her jeans and tank top. Mickey had started it. They were both complaining of being hot and sticky (a comment that would have been best left unsaid in Jack's presence). Suddenly Sara found herself in the bay… Mickey wasn't far behind. Ianto, it seemed, had not only a sense of wicked humour buried beneath that prim exterior, but a sneaky streak as well. Mickey swore he never saw the Welshman coming. Jack had just laughed, something he truly needed after the way the pc's had stared them down earlier, and headed into the Hub with their prisoner.

Sara turned off the spigot; she would have preferred a longer shower, but at least she no longer smelled like fish. She towelled off and slid into a clean, dry, pair of jeans and soft cotton blouse.

Her mobile buzzed.

Slipping in the earpiece, she answered 'hello', as she sat down on the locker room bench to put on dry socks and the boots she kept in her locker. Jack had been right to suggest a _full_ change of clothing, including shoes and underwear, although she doubted he had encounters with team mates in mind when he'd made the suggestion.

"Sara?"

Her breath caught in her throat. _"Gil?"_

"Did… I catch you at a bad time?"

"No. No, I… just got out of the shower."

She had been a little disappointed when he didn't call after the conference, except for a brief message on her voice mail to let her know he'd landed back in Vegas safely. (At the time he'd left it, she was in the middle of a Weevil Retrieval with Abby).

But that had been almost three months ago. Not that the phone lines didn't go both ways, of course.

Her excuse for not calling him, at least to herself, had been work. And there was the time difference between Vegas and Cardiff. It seemed like the only time she found herself with a free minute, a quick look at the clock assured her that Gil would probably be asleep. Assuming he was still working nights. She didn't know for sure… and deep down she was certain he wouldn't have minded talking to her even if she did wake him up. She still hadn't called.

She _had_ dropped him a couple of emails. He'd responded. But it had been… Sara thought a moment… it had been almost a month since she'd heard anything from him. She wasn't even sure who owed who the next email.

Nick, on the other hand called at least once a week. They never talked about Grissom, though.

She cleared her throat. "How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm… clean."

He chuckled softly. "Well that is the point of a shower, I suppose. Do you have some time to talk?"

"I… I'm at work, actually. But I might be able to get away for a few minutes."

"It can wait."

"Give me a minute," she said, scooping up her wet clothing as carefully as she could, so as not to undo the shower she'd just taken. A while back, Ianto had insisted on procuring a washer and dryer for just such occasions. They were located between the two locker rooms. Sara dumped her clothes into the wash… Mickey's were already in. Of course he would have waited to let her start the wash… then again, she'd seen how he did laundry. She dumped in a half a cup of detergent, set the cycle and hit the start button. It wasn't a difficult task… and she trusted Mickey with her life. Just not her favourite jeans.

"Sara…?"

"I'm still here. I just had to throw some stuff into the wash."

"I thought you said you were at work," he sounded perplexed.

"I am. We had… a bit of an incident earlier."

"I hope everything's all right."

"Nothing a little soap won't fix," she smiled. It was a good day when the worst she needed to do was wash her clothes. "So what are you up to?" she asked, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. She knew she needed to get back to work…

"I'm in Cardiff," Gil's words made the world stop. "I've accepted a teaching position at the University."

"Oi! Sara!" Mickey hollered across the Hub. "Jack's looking for you!"

"Should I let you go?" asked Gil.

She wasn't sure she was breathing at all properly. "Yeah… no. Hold on. Give me another minute. Mickey… tell Jack I'm… I need a few minutes."

"He's getting ready to…" Mickey noticed she was on the phone. "Who're you talking to? You ok?" she looked pale.

"Just tell Jack something came up. It's personal."

"Sara, if I've called at a bad time…" Gil began in her ear.

"Don't you dare hang up, Gilbert." She headed for the lift to take her up to the Plass. It was the quickest, quietest, way out of the Hub. "I'll explain when I get back," she hollered down to Mickey… and now Jack who had apparently come looking for her as well. She heard Mickey explaining that she was on the phone although she suspected that the Captain could work that out for himself.

Sara took a deep breath, trying to will herself to stop shaking and stepped off the lift when she was sure no one was looking her way.

"Sara? Are you all right?"

"Am I supposed to be?" she didn't know what else to say; she didn't know what she felt.

"I… don't know," he gave her what sounded like a completely honest answer. Then, "What I asked you before, about you seeing anybody…"

She blinked. "You want to know if I'm _seeing_ anybody? _**After **_taking a teaching job… after… moving…" because that was what he was implying, wasn't it? "You packed up and _moved_ to Cardiff?" _for me…?_

"It's just for the fall semester. If things go well, the University has expressed an interest in making it a permanent position... but it's been a while since I've been in a classroom," he added with what sounded like a smile.

"How long have you been here?"

"Only a couple of days. I would have called sooner but…"

She cut him off, "What about the lab?" Why hadn't Nick mentioned… or Greg… Hell, Catherine had her phone number, why hadn't _she_ picked up the phone and called?

"I took a leave of absence."

"Does anyone know where you are?"

"No."

A flicker of blue caught Sara's eye on the other side of the Plass. She looked up and saw Jack jogging towards her; even from a distance she could see the look of concern on his face.

"Gil, why are you here?"

"You said you weren't coming back. I decided to come to you."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**

Many thanks to those who have given me such lovely reviews on this one.... and to everyone who simply continues to read it. Reviews are fantastic, but just having it read it wonderful, too.

Also, I have a question for those of you in the UK. For a new story I'm working on (with loads of Jack and Ianto and almost nothing else but!) I'm looking for any old campy British science fiction show to use as a reference in conversation, something preferably from the 70's or earlier, that paints a picture of the future with jet packs and gold lamet jump suits. (The conversation in question currently references the Jetson's, but that's an American show.) Thanks in advance!

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**Chapter Eight: Questions, Answers, Love and Life**

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"_Stop acting as if life is a rehearsal. Live this day as if it were your last. The past is over and gone. The future is not guaranteed."_

_Wayne Dyer_

* * *

"I… I need… a few minutes," Sara stammered into her phone. She needed more than a few minutes. It felt like it might take her an entire lifetime to process what had just happened… Gil had uprooted himself and moved. Temporarily. Three or four months or however long a semester was.

But he was here. In Cardiff. For her.

He was quiet a moment on his end of the line, but then seemed to accept her need for time to process the situation. "Call me…?"

"Soon," she promised.

She hung up the phone Jack got to her. "I'm sorry," Sara said the first words that came to mind.

"Just tell me what's going on."

She almost laughed; she didn't know what was going on. "Have you ever had something happen that was so far out of left field you never saw it coming?"

His smile was kind. "Lots of times."

"I haven't. Not like this. I mean… some people you just think you have all figured out and then…" she was shaking. Then they go and do something so unexpected you don't know how to react…

Jack eased one arm around her shoulders and guided her over to a bench to sit down before she fell over. As they walked, Sara began to talk. It was a little disjointed at first, but he put together what had happened. He understood why she was so rattled she'd practically run out of the Hub. Kneeling down in front of her, he took both of his hands in hers. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

She looked down at him, startled. "I have a job to finish."

Jack smirked, "I think me and Mickey Mouse can handle it. Besides, Bobby's on his way in… apparently we made the news again." He told her, just barely managing to stifle his irritation. 'Torchwood going after our children' wasn't the kind of news story he wanted to hear on the radio.

"I'll see if I can get them to yank the story…"

"Let Gwen handle that," he said. She had just come back to work full time after fifteen weeks of maternity leave – after almost having had the baby right there in the Hub, when he decided to come out into the big bright world a couple of weeks ahead of schedule. Both Bobby and Jack had been there, although the Captain was relatively certain she was happier about the medic than him. They had gotten her to hospital without incident and with plenty of time for Rhys to be there for the birth of his son. Rhys Junior, or RJ to his aunties and uncles at Torchwood.

Now that she was back, Gwen would be on modified desk duty for the better part of the next year, serving strictly as informational and tech support, monitoring the CCTV system while the team was in the field and helping coordinate with the police when necessary. Unless it was an emergency, her day began at nine and ended at four; her week was Monday through Friday.

Not that Jack hadn't called her in a couple of times because aliens didn't keep banker's hours. This week, however, had been quiet except for a major, decidedly non-terrestrial, energy spike in the morning. It wasn't the rift and nothing had landed… just the same, it didn't take long to track down the 'kid' Jack was currently holding in custody. Even if he was just a sight-seer, he had no business poking around a level five planet.

"Go deal with what you have to," Jack repeated to Sara. "The rest of us can handle this." There had been a time when he would never have condoned putting one's personal life first from any of his team… maybe, he reckoned, that was because he hadn't had a personal life of his own in so long he'd forgotten how important it was to hang onto the things that really _were_ important. Friends. Family. A life outside the Hub.

Reluctantly Sara gave in; she hated leaving them in the middle of it, but realistically she knew she would have a hard time concentrating and Jack was right, this wasn't anything he and Mickey couldn't handle. She wasn't exactly well known for her people skills and even though the kid was probably an alien, she doubted she was the one they wanted doing the interview… interrogation. "I'll have my mobile on if you need me," she promised.

"Likewise."

She gave him a look.

Jack flashed one of those wry little smiles of his. "If this guy gives you any trouble…"

Sara chuckled, "I think I can handle it."

"All right," he grinned at her. "But call us if you need anything." He stood up, hauling her to his feet with him. "I can always put the kid on ice for a few hours and come get you if you need me."

Sara nodded her thanks; they both knew she wasn't going to call, but it was good to know that she could.

…………………………………………………………………

Instead of walking to the car park, Sara headed towards the boardwalk. It was a perfect summer afternoon… her stomach reminded her that she'd missed lunch. She ignored it, turning her gaze towards the bay and smiling to herself as she remembered her dip earlier.

Finally, she pulled out her mobile and asked Gil to meet her at a café she remembered near the University campus.

……………………………………………………..

He stood up as she came in the door. Her expression was difficult to read, but she smiled when she saw him. When she got to the table, she leaned in brushed his lips with hers; it was a light kiss, but he returned it warmly, laying his hands on her arms. "You look good."

Sara chuckled. "Thanks. I probably looked better before going swimming in my clothes."

He gave her a quizzical look as he came around to pull out a chair for her.

"Remember Mickey Smith?" she asked, still smiling.

"The one you said wanted to – quote – 'hook up' with you?"

She nodded. "He pushed me into the Bay."

Gil gave her an incredulous look. "I take it this isn't unusual?" she didn't sound the least bit perturbed.

"Not for Mickey. I think he must have been the class clown when he was a kid. He ended up going in too," she added. "He's probably still moaning about his shoes getting water logged. I keep an extra pair in my locker," she said with a smug little look. She knew Mickey only kept a change of clothes, not shoes.

"So… what did you your job was?"

"I really can't talk about it, Gil," she told him honestly. If he was going to be living here… if they were going to… they were going to see each other, weren't they?

"Can you tell me why you can't talk about it?"

"I work for Torchwood," she said, just as the waitress appeared. The girl paled a little. Sara cleared her throat and asked for a cup of coffee and a few minutes to look at the menu.

"What was that about?" asked her when the waitress had gone to get their drinks.

"We made the news again this morning." She was surprised Jack wasn't having cats over it. Or maybe he was, he just hadn't let her in on his ire.

It wasn't just that the entire team ordered pizza and made dinner reservations in the name Torchwood, the police knew them… knew to call them when something 'hinkey' happened. People were noticing them. People craved information.

"So what does Torchwood do?" he asked, his tone still neutral.

"I can't get into it. It's classified, Gil," she explained the only way she knew how. "I will never, ever be able to tell you what I do. You need to understand that up front if… if this is really going somewhere…?" try as she might, she couldn't make that sound like anything but a question.

"I'd like it to. I still want to marry you, Sara. That never changed."

She was grateful for the arrival of their coffees. She broke eye contact with him to fix hers and to think about exactly how she should respond, how she _could_ respond, to something like that. "Could… could we just start by getting to know each other again? It's been a year… not counting that weekend three months ago. A lot of things have changed in my life."

If her response surprised him, it didn't show.

"Do you still love me?" was all he wanted to know.

She answered without hesitation. "Yes."

Gil reached over and took her hand across the table. "Than I'm willing to start wherever you want me to," he said in a sincere tone.

She let him hold her hand; she held on in return. It felt good… it had always felt so good being with him. There had been a time when she thought moments like this were all she needed to get through anything… but they weren't. Being with him, the prospect of marrying him, hadn't been enough to keep her in Las Vegas. She wondered if it would be enough to keep him in Cardiff.

"Why are you here, Gil? And… please don't say it's because here I am or because you knew I wasn't coming back… I want a real answer. I think I deserve it."

"I missed you. I… " he took a breath and let it out again, slowly, trying to sort out what he wanted to say. What he needed to say so she would understand why he had come.

Instead of speaking, however, he spent a good long while staring out the window at the people coming and going on the street. Most of them were students. He wondered if he would see any of them in his classroom… he wondered what he really thought he was doing here… but then he looked at those brown eyes sitting across from him and he knew exactly what he was doing. What he hoped to accomplish.

He turned his gaze to the woman sitting across from him, waiting patiently for an answer. Laying his emotions bare on the table for others to see wasn't something he was good at. He appreciated that she was patient with him; that she had been patient with him for so long… through so much. He had taken advantage of that. Of the depth and breath of her affection for him.

"I realized I made a mistake," he said at last. "A lot of mistakes. I can't change the past. I can't unsay what I said or undo what I did. I _can_ ask your forgiveness. I can ask you for the opportunity to make things right… but in my experience actions speak louder than words. That's why I'm here."

She swallowed but her throat remained tight… she swallowed again. "I meant what I said about my job. I work insane hours. I'm always on call. I can never come home and tell you about my day. You're going to have to trust me…" he was going to have to trust her about everything.

"I have always trusted you."

She nodded. She believed that. "I'd like you to meet Jack… the rest of the team. They're not just my co-workers. They're my friends. They're this huge part of my life. That's not going to change," she warned.

"I wouldn't want it to. You made concessions for me, Sara. I'm willing to do the same for you."

She smiled. It had been hard to tell if he'd ever noticed how many compromises she made. "All right. I'm not sure about tonight, but I'd like to start with dinner with my boss and his partner." Because if Gil could make it through a couple of hours with Jack, meeting the rest of the team should be easy… she hoped.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Starting Over **

* * *

_Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born._

_Anais Nin_

* * *

"Please try not to frighten the man, Cariad."

Jack shot his partner an incredulous look. "What makes you think I'm going to frighten him?"

Ianto returned Jack's look with one of his own.

Even before Sara joined Torchwood, Jack had adopted her as something of a little sister. Or possibly even daughter-type figure. One that he still flirted with of course… which, Ianto had to admit was slightly weird save that Jack and Sara weren't really related, he was just extremely protective of her. To the point that Nerys had suggested Ianto 'watch his back' around the 'new girl.' He'd rolled his eyes, groaned, and assured his sister that it wasn't like that at all. He would have tried to use the excuse that both Jack and Sara were Americans, it was a cultural bonding thing, but his sister was well aware that Jack wasn't from the States or even the planet… Ianto didn't even recall exactly how it had come out.

Still, it was good to have one person he could share his deepest darkest secrets with. _By the way, my husband is an immortal from the future…_wasn't exactly the sort of thing he could say to his mother over Sunday dinner.

Almost a week had passed since Sara asked them out to dinner to meet her… whatever Gil was. She was reluctant to call him her boyfriend, although she'd seen him several times over the week, which clearly marked him as more than a friend. She wasn't however, willing to consider his proposition of marriage any time soon.

Ianto reached around Jack to the drawer where he kept his ties…

"Isn't that the tie I got you for Christmas a couple years ago?" the Captain asked. The tie that hadn't been the real gift, the real gift had been an expensive book he'd spied Ianto admiring.

The younger man smiled a coy little smile. "Why yes, Sir, it is," he answered in a mischievous tone that gave his partner a good idea of what he had in mind for later… meantime, he slipped the tie under the collar of the red shirt he was wearing.

Jack turned from fussing with his hair in the mirror and took the ends of the tie out of his hands, doing it up for him, despite the fact that Ianto was more than capable. As he finished snugging it gently into place, he leant forward, pressing his lips to the younger man's, loving the way Ianto kissed him back without reservation or hesitation. His eyes slid shut and he pulled closer…

"I honestly don't know if I like you better in that tie or tied up with it," Jack told him when the separated some while later.

The Welshman smirked… his preference was definitely the latter... Jack's smile suggested he understood exactly what Ianto was thinking. But for once, Jack didn't suggest they try to beg out of a social engagement so they could stay home and shag. Gil Grissom was one person he wanted to meet.

They would have done it sooner, but they had spent the last few days dealing the alien he and Jack had apprehended. He said his name was Sam, but that was a lie – Jack had used some sort of alien lie detector on him.

'Sam' hadn't meant to crash in on Earth, but he had quite literally crashed, after running away from some war on his home world, a planet he was disinclined to name. He said there was no way anyone on Earth had ever heard of it, so it didn't matter anyway… he'd crashed five years ago during a meteor storm, no where near Cardiff, but had been in the city for almost six months. According to the lie detector that was all true.

He claimed to be harmless, which also seemed to be the truth, but they'd heard that before and harmless was a terribly subjective word, anyway.

The team remained divided on the best course of action, so until they could get the situation sorted to Jack's satisfaction, 'Sam' was taking up residence on Flat Holm Island. He had given his solemn word of honour that he would stay put and not cause any trouble. He seemed to Ianto to be almost relieved to be in their custody and didn't care where they put him.

Jack wasn't sure how he felt about the 'word of honour' of someone whose real name he didn't even know… not that he had much room to talk. Ultimately, Flat Holm Island was the best he could do under the circumstances. It wasn't just Abby and Gwen, the Captain himself had a hard time locking some kid, alien or not, up in a cell next to Janet.

The energy spike they'd picked up hadn't been any kind of weapon; Sam claimed it was a communication device; he was just trying to reach out to see if any of his people were close enough to hear him. Close enough to rescue him.

Mickey, Abby and Tim had gone over the device with a proverbial fine tooth comb and while they agreed that it wasn't a weapon, they couldn't confirm what sort of message the kid had sent. It could be 'ET phone home' or 'Mars needs women' – they couldn't be sure.

Ianto sighed. They saw so much death, so much misery. He hoped they weren't making a mistake in showing some measure of trust, taking the kid's story at face value…

"_My world was invaded… I don't know what they were… a bunch of us just ran. I know it was the cowards' way out, but I was just a kid… I was scared. We all were. I'm the only one who survived the crash. I just want to go home. If… I have a home left to go home to…"_

"_Why did you run from us?" Jack wanted to know._

_Sam blinked at him, giving an incredulous look. "You were chasing me! You knew I didn't belong here. I didn't think anybody on this planet would be able to figure that out. We look the same," he swallowed nervously. "I wasn't hurting anybody, I swear."_

_He'd stolen a few articles of clothing, worked under the table when he could find somebody willing to give him a few quid to do odd jobs. He wasn't a criminal or a junkie, but occasionally he had to deal with them, because not too many legitimate business owners would hire a scruffy looking teenager off the books. _

_He swore he'd never gotten into trouble… the lie detector wasn't convinced, which meant __**he **__wasn't convinced… but that only served to convince Jack that his character was probably basically good._

_Jack could pass a similar question with flying colours. And according to Gwen, the kid didn't have a police record. _

…………………………………………………………….

Sara took a deep breath and let it out again before opening the door. She didn't have to force her smile when she looked at Gil standing there in a suit. He looked pensive, but he also looked good. It made the pterodactyls in the pit of her belly start fluttering around all the more.

His smile was a mirror of her own. "You look lovely tonight, Sara," his tone betrayed nothing but the utter sincerity of the statement.

Her smile warmed to a grin. "You look pretty good yourself. Why don't you come in for a minute? I'll introduce you to Mrs. Chandler." Although they had seen each other several times over the last few days, this was the first time she had invited him to her home.

Sara's landlady was gracious… polite. She gave her guest a mildly appraising look, but if she had any doubts about what Sara was doing, she kept them well hidden. She excused herself after the pleasantries, leaving him feeling a little awkward.

But it wasn't meeting Mrs. Chandler that was fuelling Gil's trepidation over the evening…

Sara guided their way across the street to a neat little house. All of the houses looked more or less the same, but this one had a front garden full of rose bushes in full bloom. There were also irises, phlox and day lilies growing along the fence. A bouquet of similar flowers had been sitting on the coffee table in Sara's landlady's front room. Gil raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. It seemed as if her boss was giving her flowers on a regular basis…

Before they had ascended the front steps, the door opened to reveal a boy of about ten years old. He flashed a decidedly dark look in Gil's direction.

Sara very carefully hid her amused smile. "Jason, I'd like you to meet my friend, Dr. Gilbert Grissom. Gil, may I present Mr. Jason Harkness," she made the introductions in a formal tone.

Gil managed a smile and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You'd better be nice to Sara," the boy instructed, without accepting his hand.

She flushed a deep shade of crimson; Gil seemed to be taking it in stride however.

Just behind Jason, Ianto appeared from upstairs; he cleared his throat loudly, having overheard.

"It's nice to meet you, I guess," Jason accepted the man's handshake and stepped aside to let he and Sara into the house.

"I believe you still have some homework to finish up…?" Ianto asked in the boy's direction.

With an loud and unhappy 'humph' Jason trudged up the stair.

Ianto flashed an apologetic look at their guest. "Sorry about that. Jason is a bit like his father at times. Ianto Jones-Harkness," he used his full name as he extended his hand towards the other man.

"Gil Grissom," he introduced himself, accepting the young man's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Dr. Grissom. Won't you please come in?" he gestured them further into the living room. Dr. Grissom was older than Ianto had expected, at least ten years Sara's senior. Not that he had much room to talk when it came to falling for older men... and Grissom certainly wasn't an unattractive man.

He accepted both the younger man's hand and the invitation. "Please… call me Gil," he added.

"Gil then. Ianto," he invited.

"That's typically short for Ifan, isn't it?"

Ianto blinked in surprise. It was uncommon for someone outside the UK to know that. "Yes, it is. My sister and mother are the only people who ever call me that, though. Usually only when I'm in trouble," he said with a shy smile. "Can I offer either of you a drink?"

"I'm fine, thank you," said Gil.

"I'm good too…unless you've got some coffee…"

"Sorry, Sara. Jack finished the pot earlier… I'm afraid if I put on another, we might miss our reservation. He's upstairs fussing," he told her.

She snickered. Jack had to be one of the vainest men she had ever met.

Ianto motioned for the two of them to have a seat; he sat down after they had settled into the sofa. "I hope you like Italian," he said to Gil. "Jack and I have a favourite little place near where I used to live."

Gil nodded, "Italian sounds good. You have a lovely home, by the way," he added. He'd never been especially good at small talk and it was showing.

"I try. It's not always easy…"

Glancing up, he saw Jack finally coming down the stair, wearing a dark blue shirt and waistcoat with his customary trousers and boots. "Sorry to keep you kids waiting," he flashed a smirk. He let his gaze settle on Sara, "Gorgeous as ever, Miss Sidle."

"Why thank you, Captain Harkness," she rose and allowed him to plant a small kiss on her cheek. "May I present Dr. Gilbert Grissom. Gil, Captain Jack Harkness."

"Captain."

"Doctor," Jack couldn't help the mischievousness in his grin, even if the Doctor he was thinking of wasn't the one standing in front of him at the moment. "I thought we'd drive, if you don't mind…?" he said.

"Cariad, _please_ remember what I asked you upstairs."

Jack favoured his partner with a truly lascivious expression, brows raised suggestively, wicked grin playing across his lips. "I thought I was going to tie you up _after_ company had left…"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: so, I'm trying to wrap up my unfinished fics … it's a little slow going.  
I'm not sure how much more there is to this story... maybe a chapter or two. I appreciate your patience, especially with these couple of stories that have been in limbo for a while. **

**And…  
THANK YOU AGAIN for all the fantastic reviews!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Night Caps**

………………………………………………………………**..**

"Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with."  
_- Mark Twain_

………………………………………………………..

"Dinner's on me," Jack announced when the waitress dropped off their bill.

Ianto groaned. "You mean it's on us," by which he meant Torchwood, not their joint account. Truthfully, though, he was just happy to have gotten through dinner without being interrupted by invading Raxacoricofallapatorians (although Jack insisted that they weren't all like the one who had taken over Cardiff City Hall a few years back) or without the good Captain sending Sara's almost-but-not-quite-boyfriend fleeing in terror. The night was still young, however. Jack might still frighten Gil into running away. Then again, he is one of the more impassive individuals the Welshman had ever met. He'd never seen anyone sit through an evening of Jack's stories without flinching at least once. Admittedly when intentionally refraining from tales that included alien encounters, Jack's material was a bit limited, but still, he _was _Jack.

As for the matter of the expense reports, the older man merely shrugged. "I'm sure you'll come up with some way to write it off when you get the expense report. Creativity seems to be your speciality," he added with a smirk.

"And on that note," Ianto rose to his feet, "we should probably call it a night." He gave his partner a look that clearly said the decision was final. Jack didn't appear as if he wanted to aruge.

"I hope next time you'll let me pick up the check," Gil offered as he got to his feet as well, helping Sara with her chair.

"It's a date," the Captain agreed with wink, raising his brows suggestively. Then he turned to his partner. "You want to get the car while I settle up in here?" he asked, pulling keys out of his pocket.

Ianto nodded. He couldn't help the feeling of warmth that overtook him when, instead of just handing over the keys, Jack wrapped his hand around his and pulled him in for a quick kiss before he made his exit. The younger man never would have expected public displays of affection to mean so much to him, but they did. He knew it was Jack's way of reassuring him that he meant it when he said he loved him, his way of confirming that even if he didn't want to 'preclude any possibilities threesomes…foursomes…sextets (Jack's favourite number)', his husband wasn't actually looking for anything outside their partnership.

"Just you remember that promise you made me before we left," he all but growled into his ear as he let the younger man go.

He blinked in surprise. "What promise?"

"You know exactly the one." He gave him a look.

"I didn't…"

"You didn't have to say it," he smirked, his gaze flickering quickly to Ianto's tie, his meaning quite clear.

As stoically as he knew how, he made his exit. He wondered how Gilbert Grisson would feel about Raxacoricofallapatorians…

…………………………………………………………..

Gil watched with interest as the young Welshman slid out of the passenger seat; before he vacated the SUV, surrendering driving duties to Jack, he adjusted the seat and mirrors for the Captain. His adjustments seemed as if they were accurate, Jack didn't touch either the mirror or seat position after he got in. He had noticed, too, the way he opened doors for him, although Jack politely stood back for Sara to enter first, and then him, before striding through himself, leaving his partner to bring up the rear. Gil noticed the way Ianto made sure the waitress, who was apparently new, got him the right Scotch.

And how Jack made sure Ianto liked the wine he picked out. How the Captain ordered for both of them. He doubted anyone could miss the satisfied, almost smug little smile the young Welsman wore when he did it, too.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids," Jack teased as he dropped Gil and Sara off at the curb just outside her place.

"There _isn't_ anything you wouldn't do, Cariad," said his partner in a deadpan tone. Then, "Good night Sara. Gil. It was a pleasure meeting you." He extended his hand out the window.

"It was nice to meet you too," he echoed with a genuine smile, accepting the young man's hand. "I hope to see you both again, soon," he added. He didn't consider himself to be much of an expert when it came to social situations, but the evening seemed to have gone well. Sara was smiling. It seemed to him as if she was smiling more than he remembered her smiling in a long, long time.

"See you guys in the morning," Sara leant in and kissed Ianto's cheek.

"Sure you don't want to come over for a quick game of naked hide and seek?" Jack offered. Again.

"Jack," Ianto drew his name out into two full syllables.

The older man gave a shrug and an innocent look that wouldn't have fooled anyone, even someone who had just met him, and eased the SUV away from the curb.

Sara cast a sidelong glance in her date's direction. "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? It's not as good as Ianto's…but you won't have to put up with Jack, either," her smile turned a little shy. "I hope it didn't bother you too much," she added in an equally soft voice.

"Is he like that all the time?" he asked, instead of answering her question about coming up for coffee… _or _her inquiry about whether or not he was put off by her boss.

"Oh. No," she slid her arm into his anyway, guiding him up to her front porch. "Tonight he was on the best behavior I've ever seen."

Gil blinked and felt a measure of the colour drain from his cheeks, although he didn't mean for it to. Maybe he needed to find out a little bit more about this Torchwood after all…

"So, Sara, what are the rest of your coworkers like?" he inquired in the most neutral tone he could muster.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you again for the lovely reviews and wonderful support!! Ok, we are almost to the end here... one more chapter should wrap things up... I know this one is a little slow, but it didn't seem to work without it.**

**And a huge thank you to Kitsa for pointing out something so I could fix it! I serioiusly don't believe I was that big a twit... **

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Forging Ahead**

………………………………………………………………**..**

"In this world of change, nothing which comes stays, and nothing which goes is lost."

Anne Sophie Swetchine

………………………………………………………..

Gil Grissom rose to his feet as the young, impeccably dressed, Welshman joined him at the table; the pub around them, located just off the University campus, was quiet despite the time, nearly half eleven. "I appreciate you taking the time to come out," he told him. The suit the younger man was wearing was no more or less formal than the one he had worn to dinner the previous night. It made Gil wonder what it was he actually did for a living.

"My pleasure," the Welshman's smile was warm. Pleasant. He extended his hand; his handshake, like last night, was firm without being overpowering. His manner was reserved, quiet. Just the opposite of his partner's. "Thank you for the invitation," he added, sounding as if he might really mean it.

Gil nodded; they both sat. "I… wanted a chance to get to know Sara's friends a little better," he explained, just a little hesitantly. Duplicity wasn't his strong suit. And mostly, it _was_ true, he did want to know her friends. He wanted know who she'd become over the last year, because she wasn't the same woman who had walked out on him… _because I pushed her away,_ he forced himself to admit. Again. He knew he had a lot to make up for.

He also very much wanted to get a better idea of what she was really doing in Cardiff. To say that information on Torchwood was scant would be an understatement. He had tried the internet only to come up with nothing that seemed credible. "Sara seems especially fond of you and your partner," he began with a statement of truth. Then, "or do you prefer husband?" he asked in an earnest tone.

The young man's chuckle surprised him. "After this morning, task-master is more like it," he grumbled, although obviously in good humour.

The older man quirked an eyebrow.

Ianto merely smiled, waving it off. "It was a slow morning at work," he explained. "When it's slow, Jack has entirely too much time to think, which at the moment is something I would prefer it if he abstained from for a while." _A long while…_

The waitress came for their order before he could expound, which was really for the best. The Welshman ordered as if he knew the menu by heart. His companion ordered the same thing he had every time he came in.

"I… hope you don't mind my saying… it seems a bit…unusual…" Gil began, although he was uncertain how to proceed. "You and your husband…" he explained to the perplexed look on the young Welshman's face.

Ianto smiled his understanding. "You mean it seems unusual for an employer and employee to be married," he said, confirming the other's suspicions that Jack really was the boss and he was merely an underling of some sort… although exactly what sort of underling he was, even they weren't sure of most days. Office manager, secretary, archivist, field agent… it all blurred together at the end of the day. _And at the end of the day, I doubt it really matters,_ he mused.

"I had rather wanted to keep what Jack and I were doing quiet in the beginning," he said, "but well… you've met the man. He couldn't keep 'us' a secret for more than two minutes. He _never_ could have made it two years without letting the cat out of the bag." He sipped his water; he wanted Gil to know Sara that had told them a great deal about her past, about the two years the two of them had carried on in secret. If lines were ever drawn in the sand, there was no doubting that every member of Torchwood Three would be on Sara's side. "Besides, Jack sets the rules," he continued. "Torchwood doesn't a have a Rule Number Twelve."

The waitress arrived with his tea, for which he was infinitely grateful. (He knew better than to order coffee in this particular pub. Not many people drank it, and as a result it sat on the warmer for hours on end… yes, Ianto prided himself in really knowing everything.)

"Rule number twelve?" asked Grissom.

"Abby, our 'forensic goddess', used to work for a man who apparently had fifty rules governing office procedure. Rule Number Twelve was the prohibition on office romances." Which had always struck him as odd, seeing as she and Tim had dated, at least briefly, when they both worked for the United States Navy. It was, in fact, how they'd met.

"Forensic goddess?"

He shrugged. "Her preferred title. I don't argue with a woman who knows how to kill a man without leaving behind any evidence," her favourite threat, although usually it was levelled at Mickey not he or Jack. "Particularly not one who won't hesitate to go into detail on how it's done."

Gil blinked. "It seems like you have an… interesting… working environment."

The Welshman's chuckle was dry, his mind reflecting on pterodactyls and Weevils… werewolves… the occasional vampire visiting from Toronto… aliens… alien technology… "To say the least," was all he said aloud. Their food arrived.

"Can I ask what you do? Sara said it was classified."

Ianto nodded. "We…handle things. That's really the best way I can explain it," he couldn't help the momentary twinge of sympathy for the man sitting opposite him. Gil Grissom had travelled half way around the world to be with someone (which while it made Jack suspicious, Ianto found incredibly romantic), yet there was so little Sara could share with him about her work; even the good parts were classified.

He also remembered the near-catastrophe they'd had on their hands when Rhys found out what Gwen was really doing. Frankly, it was better that Torchwood _didn't _have a Rule Number Twelve. It was hard to imagine any of them trying to date outside work… _sad and single…_ Tosh's words suddenly rushed into his head.

He recovered quickly, despite the pang of loss felt deep inside, and forced a smile. "We handle the sorts of situations the police aren't equipped to handle," he tried to explain without giving too much away. "Sara's experience as a CSI has been an invaluable asset to us," he added.

"I hated losing her," the other admitted.

Ianto considered, mulling over his burger and chips thoughtfully, wondering if Gil meant that only professionally. The look in the older man's eyes suggested otherwise, but there was a lot he would probably never admit aloud, possibly even to a friend…

Sara's own descriptions of her former boss and lover bore that out.

"There was a time," the Welshman began slowly, "when Jack and I went through a bit of a rough patch. A couple of them, really," he admitted with a shy smile. He wasn't the sort to talk about his private life either. But there were times to make exceptions, and this felt like one of them. "One of the worst, for me, was before we learnt to talk to one another, because I honestly had no idea where I stood with him." It wasn't all Jack's fault; he might not have said how he felt, but Ianto hadn't asked, either. "Jack can be incredibly reserved…"

The look Gil was giving him made him smile. "I know it's difficult to imagine, but Jack… he lost his father at an early age," he settled on a simple truth. "At the time, I didn't even know that much about him though. He keeps his private life very private; honestly, half of his bluster is really a cover, I think, just don't tell him I said so," said in a conspiratorial tone. It made the other man smile.

"At any rate," he went on, "I didn't know what he considered me until the day a friend of his asked about us – apparently he'd given her the very distinct impression that we were a couple." He smiled at the memory of Martha asking him if he and Jack were really… even she hadn't supplied a word, but that _look_…. He'd played it casual, of course, claiming it was just dabbling, but he'd felt like he was walking on clouds the rest of the day. "It may sound a bit silly, but knowing that he took our relationship seriously enough to discuss it with a friend meant a great deal to me. For the longest time, all he would ever do was give me hints that he might consider us…well… 'us'," he went on, realizing again why it had been so important to Jack to meet his family. For all that Jack claimed to be beyond the 'infantile trappings' of twenty-first century courtships, he could be just as insecure as the next guy. Just as human as his partner.

"It was a difficult time for me, even though we weren't hiding the sexual nature of our relationship," Ianto told the man sitting opposite him.

"No Rule Number Twelve?"

He smiled. "Precisely. Discretion really isn't in Jack's nature," he added. "However, I don't imagine that working in a place where one has to to hide how you felt about a person, day in and day out, for two years would be very easy," he said pointedly. "Especially when your closest friends are your co-workers. In that respect, I believe Torchwood is much like your Crime Lab in Las Vegas. We don't have lives outside of our job, not really anyway," he told him. "Although truthfully, I can tell you from experience that it can be a bit difficult to carry on so-called normal relationships when you can't talk about what you do. Most of my family is convinced I'm 'wasting my time' working for the Tourist Bureau."

Gil blinked, as surprised by the younger man's candour as he was by his accurate assessment of he and Sara's past relationship. "No. No, it wasn't easy," he admitted, deciding that he was more interested in Sara's life than her job, at least for the moment. After all, the latter wouldn't matter if they didn't work themselves out.

The silence that settled over the two men while they ate was neither comfortable nor awkward. At length, Ianto inquired as to how he was getting settled.

"Sara's been showing me around. You have a beautiful city."

_When we're not being over run by Weevils or assorted other a__liens,_ he thought. He smiled anyway. "If there's anything you need, I hope you'll free to ask. There's very little about the city I don't know." _Local expertise…_ he smiled.

"Thank you."

Ianto finished the last of his burger. "Do you bowl, by any chance?"

"Bowl?"

The younger man just smiled. "I can't promise Jack will be on his best behaviour, especially if the afternoon pans out to be as dull as this morning, but we're getting together tonight for a few pints at the bowling alley near the Millennium Centre. Why don't you join us?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Again, huge thank you's to everybody who has been reading this! Here it is, the last chapter...**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**Torchwood**

………………………………………………………………

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in,  
where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul."

John Muir

………………………………………………………

Even if he hadn't spotted Sara right away, Gil would have been hard pressed not to see – and hear – her boss, even across a crowded bowling alley on a Friday night. Even if he wasn't wearing the RAF great coat, Jack would have stood out in the crowd. It was more than clothes or looks, there was just something about the man that seemed to command attention, attention that he was obviously not uncomfortable with.

Since it didn't seem as if he'd been spotted just yet, Grissom took a moment to size up the group gathered around the boisterous American before making his way over. To call them diverse would have been the understatement of the century.

There was Ianto Jones-Harkness, of course, with the Captain's arms wrapped snuggly, affectionately, around his waist. The Welshman was no longer wearing a suit, but he still looking impeccably well groomed in fitted jeans and a t-shirt worn tucked in. What Gil really noticed, however, was the easy way he and Harkness seemed to interact with one another, even in a crowded room. It wasn't that they were both men, it was that he was sure_ he_ had never felt that comfortable with anyone in public, even though his relationships had all been perfectly socially acceptable. Mostly. He had been Sara's supervisor, her boss… but Jack was Ianto's.

_Jack sets the rules,_ the younger man had said. Watching them from a distance, Gil got the distinct sense that whatever Torchwood was, it began and ended with Captain Jack Harkness.

Sara glanced up, then, and spotted him. Her smile deepened. Warmed. For a few precious seconds it seemed as if her attention was focused solely on him…it was an incredible feeling.

Then he heard Jack's voice calling his name, welcoming him into his circle… no, not welcoming so much as giving him permission to enter. He knew he had yet to fully win Jack's approval; it hadn't occurred to him until that moment that he was going to need it.

"Glad you could make it out, Gil," Jack's tone was warmer than the appraising look he gave. "We were just sorting out how we were going to divide up into teams." His eyebrows shot up lasciviously, making what would otherwise have been a harmless statement an obvious innuendo.

"I still say we should play blokes against the ladies," said a blond man, ignoring Jack's smirk; he had an Australian accent. He wore faded jeans with holes beginning to appear at the knees and seemed in desperate need of a haircut and shave. If he were a few years younger, Gil would have mistaken him for a college student.

"Except that that puts you _and_ Ianto on the same team," objected a girl in a circa nineteen fifties bowling shirt and poodle skirt; her outfit was directly at odds with the studded dog collar around her neck. "You two are never supposed to be on the same team, it's not fair."

"Says you!" the blond scoffed right back. "You're as good as we are."

"Well I know _that_," she replied in a saucy, self-satisfied tone. "I'm Abby by the way," she held her hand out to the new comer.

Gil recovered his surprise enough to accept. This was the 'forensic goddess?' "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"He _is_ polite," she said to Sara. "And you know what they say about the polite ones," she smirked, causing a conservatively dressed man who had been almost hiding in the background to flush a shade of light pink.

It was Jack, however, who answered, "I sure do," he draped his arm over his partner's shoulders.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about, Sir," Ianto returned in a flat tone.

Jack chuckled and pulled him just a little closer; the younger man didn't resist.

"You know, if we play them against us," the other brunette woman was saying, "it means they get stuck with Rhys."

"Oi!" a big man, presumably Rhys, objected. He looked more bark than bite.

"All right, Kids," Jack had clearly had enough. "Keep it up and I'm sending you _all_ to my room for the night!"

Ianto flashed Gil a sympathetic look.

"Well I for one think we could take the guys on," Sara surprised him by saying. Her tone was cocky; so was the grin on her face. "After all that means they _also_ get Mickey. Remember _last _week?" she inquired of a dark skinned young man wearing loose fitting jeans and a faded t-shirt.

"That was not my fault!" the man in question shot an accusatory glare at Jack, who managed to look almost convincingly innocent of any wrong-doing. Almost.

Sara just laughed. It had a distinctly mischievous sound to it. "You can blame anyone you want to, Mickey. _You_ were still the one who…"

"Oi!" Mickey cut her off loudly. "That was Captain Cheese Cake's fault and you know it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack winked at the younger man. Just the same, he settled the argument before it escalated any further. "All right, girls against guys, losers pick up the bar tab," he added in Sara's direction. Then he steered Gil towards the male members of his team.

"I'm afraid bowling really isn't my sport," he confided to them.

"No worries," Ianto assured him with a kind smile. He proceeded to make the introductions.

The blond with the Australian accent was their medic, Dr. Bobby Chase; he had a firm handshake and warm smile. Next was Mickey Smith, then the rather quiet Tim McGee and the not so quiet Rhys Williams.

"Nice to have another Torchwood Widow on the team," he greeted Gil with a clap on the back.

"Torchwood…?"

"You know, all the crazy hours they keep," he explained. "And having Harkness here call up in the middle of the night because there's some emergency."

"Just be glad there's someone around to handle those emergencies," Mickey told him; the statement and his tone surprised Gil.

"I'm going to head up to the bar," Ianto said then. "Gil…?" He inquired.

"Just a beer. Thanks."

Ianto nodded; he obviously already knew exactly what everyone else was drinking. Tim went with up him, offering to give a hand carrying everything back. Of the entire group, they were the only two that struck Gil as the sorts of men he would cast as members of some clandestine government opperation.

Sara stepped over and slipped up next to him, a shy smile playing across her lips. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the team while everybody settled," she offered in a quiet tone. "It could take a while," she added.

"All right... Sara," he stopped her part way between the two tables; he kept his voice down. "Thank you."

She gave him a perplexed look. "For what?"

"Letting me come tonight. Letting me meet your friends. It means a lot to me."

Her smile deepened and she slid her hand into his. "It means a lot to me too."

"All right, enough fraternizing with the enemy!" Abby declared, although she was grinning broadly. "Either bring your boyfriend over here and introduce him to the rest of us or get back over here so we can figure out how we're going to beat the pants off those guys! I am not getting suck with the bar tab tonight!"

"You know, Abbs," Jack shot over a mischievous wink, "if all you wanted was to get me out of my pants, you only had to ask," he smirked; his voice was loud enough to be heard across the entire room.

Abby walked over and smacked him upside the head in a way she never would have done with her former boss. But unlike Gibbs, Jack occasionally had to be put in his place. "That is not what I mean, Jack Harkness, and you know it!"

Jack just laughed; Gil was baffled by the insubordination.

"Well I see some things haven't changed," said a new voice in the crowd.

The man standing just behind Gil and Sara was tall, slender… he wore a dark blue suit, his tie loosened around his neck. He was grinning broadly… a moment later he and Jack were caught up in an embrace. It was impossible to tell which of them was the more pleased for seeing the other.

"Doctor!" Jack finally held him at arms' length. "What…?"

The other gave over a bemused sort of chuckle, as if finding Jack Harkness at a loss for words was truly a remarkable sight.

"I thought I'd come a few days early, catch up with old friends," he cast a friendly glance at the others, his gaze settling briefly on Gwen… Mickey. "Maybe save the world a time or two before whisking you and Mr. Jones off…" his smile deepened as Ianto and Tim re-joined them. "Your team's grown, I see, Captain," the Doctor observed.

"Let me introduce you…"

…………………………………………………………….

_Epilogue…_

Gil slipped quietly out of his bed. Sara was sleeping soundly… after a rather interesting game of bowling, made even more so by the unexpected appearance of a Dr. John Smith, of whom Gil could say very little with any certainty at all, they had gone for pizza. Jack's treat. Jack had picked up the bar tab as well, despite the fact that the men had beaten the women by quite a few points, Gil's lack of experience with the game not withstanding.

_But Jack sets the rules…_ and Torchwood began and ended with Jack Harkness. Gil knew that now.

He glanced back as Sara shifted in her sleep. They hadn't done more than talk. For hours. They hadn't talked about anything in particular, just life. Sara told him a little more about some of her teammates…. Abby knew sign language and Bobby used to work in New Jersey. Wendy, Bobby's girlfriend, and Ianto had been friends forever. Jack and Ianto were going to be out of town for a while, adopting a baby...apparently Dr. Smith had something to do with that, although Gil was fuzzy on exactly what his role was.

It didn't really matter, what mattered was that Sara was bringing him into her life, telling her how Gwen and Rhys were expecting their second child and how Tim and Abby used to work for the US Navy… how she grew up in New Orleans and he went to MIT. How Mickey Smith had recently started dating Ianto's sister Nerys and that it wasn't going over well with the young Welshman, although apparently Jack thought they made a cute couple. Sara had never met 'the Doctor' before tonight, but she knew that he and Jack 'went way back' and that he was some sort of scientific advisor for UNIT.

Gil closed the bedroom door behind him; his place was tiny, cozy. Comfortable. He settled in at his desk and dialed the number for Catherine Willows' mobile phone from memory.

She picked up after only two rings, which most likely meant that she had been neither sleeping nor working. "Hello?"

"Catherine," he smiled into the receiver.

"Gil?"

"Hi…I… I wanted you to be the first person to hear that I wasn't coming back to Vegas."

There was a moment of silence on the other end before she asked where he was.

"I'm in Cardiff. With Sara."


End file.
